Simplistic
by drama fixated
Summary: Hermione ponders about Ron.


Disclaimer: Harry Potter's not mine. It belongs to J.K. Rowling and various related companies. The only thing that's mine is this fic.

Author's Note: For **Val**. This is a belated birthday gift to her, because she asked for it. Happy belated birthday, **Val**!

This also goes out to **Kalie **– the mother of all modesty – for inspiring me and telling me her honest opinion on this. You go, girl! :

And seeing that this is my first Ron/Hermione clears throat (I write Harry/Hermione mostly), eh, tell me what you think? "He" is Ron, and "she" is Hermione.

- - -

She couldn't remember being this angry in a long time.

Maybe because there hadn't been a time when she had been so angry – so positively boiling with madness that it took a couple of deep breaths and counting for her to calm down.

And of course it had been because of him. Again. The reason why she was so furious and frustrated. It was always him. Always the reason why he riled her up and made her stay like that for a while. How did he manage to do it? She wondered. How could he rile her up so easily, as if it were nothing? Most of the time it wasn't on purpose, he hadn't intended to make her raging mad. It was because of his stupidity and carelessness that she went off in a temper.

And when she was mad at him, he was clueless at why she was so enraged at him and went off on her in return. Temperamental person that he was, she thought wryly. A perfect characteristic of the stereotypical redhead. Why and how he could make her so mad, she had yet to figure out. There had to be more reasons besides just his cluelessness and insensitiveness. Maybe it was all his imperfections, all his flaws. The little quirks that made him distinctively Ron yet irked her to no end. Which was strange, considering that she wasn't perfect but she strived to be.

It was rather useless really, she thought. Why bother trying to be perfect when there was such thing? Being ideal and flawless didn't exist; it couldn't happen. So why was she so dead set on achieving something that could never be done? Maybe it was her ambitious side; she wanted to accomplish the impossible. She wanted to be the person who would be known for achieving perfection. She would have no flaws – not even ones that were invisible. Ones that she could see but no one else could. So this was a foolish dream of hers, she knew. It wouldn't hurt to at least _try_, would it? The logical part of her said no, but it knew that no matter how much they tried, a person couldn't be prefect. Hell, they couldn't even pretend to be prefect if they tried.

Which brought her back to her tactless best friend. So what if he wasn't perfect? She didn't know why all his flaws bothered her in the first place. Okay, so he was tactless. He said more with his mouth than with his mind. Sure, he was blazingly honest, but most of the time that got him into trouble. The way he didn't think and just acted recklessly, without a single thought, was what irked her the most. She knew she couldn't change him, even if she tried again and again. Besides, why bother changing who he was? He couldn't help being Ron. And she couldn't help being herself, either.

If he was the ideal human being she knew nothing would be achieved from that. Making him be her ideal man would be useless, since honestly, he _was _her ideal man. She realized that now, and didn't regret it at all. After all, realizing something was the first step to actually _doing _something about it, right? This endless jumping around couldn't go on forever, she knew. Trying to avoid the inevitable was as pointless as doing nothing to help it. Making it happen was worth it, though.

And she wasn't avoiding anything, or making something happen a little earlier than expected. She wasn't the beating around the bush type. And the sooner this – them – happened, the happier she would be. As inane as that sounded, it was true. It made sense to her, to her mind. Why bother trying to fight what was right for the both of them? For her and him? It was a waste of time, a huge waste. That time could be spent doing . . better things. Much better than constantly being at each other's throats yet trying to prevent the unavoidable. And if it didn't make sense to everybody else, why bother caring about what they thought?

So he made her mad – they would always have their disagreements about everything in the world. They were opposites in every way – but that didn't mean that would harm what they had. It wouldn't hurt them or cause unnecessary pain. That might seem naïve of her, but she truly felt that way. Call it an instinct of hers; she knew they wouldn't be shielded from blowing up and making a scene, but they would learn from it, wouldn't they? Every relationship would be rocky, she thought, even one especially rocky as theirs. But they would work it out together, as the unconventional yet fitting team they were. She had confidence in that, in them. She had faith in them, in what they had. And she knew that he did too, when it all boiled down to them and what they truly felt. Why have anything else?

With some surprise, she discovered that she no longer felt angry. All of the rage that she had felt before had dissipated. She held back a smile at this. So this was his effect – positive or negative, it didn't matter – on her. In her mind it was positive.

And that was all the proof she needed. Taking a deep breath, she went downstairs and walked over to where he was, nearby the fireplace. It was time to have a talk.


End file.
